Disclaimer: I am not Timothy Zahn or J.K. Rowling.
Enter Harry, Ginny, and Hedwig, walking though the forest on the Isle of Drear.
Harry. Reminds me of the Forbidden Forest. A forest always sounds so busy at night.
Ginny. Oh, it's busy, all right. A lot of the animals here are nocturnal, including the Quintapeds.
Harry. Strange. Aberforth's pet Quintapeds seemed wide enough awake in late afternoon.
Ginny glances at Harry with grudging respect.
Ginny. Actually, even in the wild they take small naps around the clock. I call them nocturnal because they do most of their hunting at night.
Harry. Maybe we ought to travel at night, then. They'll be hunting us either way. At least then we'd be awake and alert while they were on the prowl.
Ginny. [shakes her head] It would be more trouble than it's worth. We need to be able to see the terrain as far ahead of us as possible if we're going to avoid running into dead ends. Besides, this whole forest is dotted with small clearings.
Harry. Through which a torch beam would show very clearly to an orbiting broom. Point. You seem to know a lot about this place.
Ginny. It wouldn't take more than an observant pilot flying over the forest to see that. [aside] As much as it pains me, he is right. Know your territory. That was the first rule that was drilled into me by the Dark Lord. And the second I arrived here, I did precisely that. More than anyone else in Aberforth's organization, I am equipped to survive outside it. So why is it that I'm trying so hard to get back there? I don't owe Aberforth anything . . . at least not any more than he owes me. He would be at perfect liberty to abandon me here and protect himself. [sighs] Except I know he wouldn't. He's going to send search party after search party . . . even if it tries Grindelwald's patience. And if Potter and I don't turn up, the Grand Admiral is going to jump to the wrong conclusion. And I just can't bear the thought of Aberforth in an interrogation cell . . . or worse.
Hedwig. [beeps and whistles]
Harry. I think Hedwig's picked up something.
Ginny. [to Harry, sarcastic] No kidding.
Ginny flicks on a torch.
Enter the Quintaped.
As the Quintaped moves forward, Ginny raises her rifle and shoots it in the head. It dies.
Awfully good thing we have your droid's sensors along.
Harry. Well, I wouldn't have known there was any danger without him. Thank you.
Ginny. Forget it.
Harry. Are Aberforth's pet Quintapeds a different species? Or did he have their tails removed?
Once again, Ginny is forced to look upon Harry with grudging respect, impressed in spite of herself.
Ginny. The latter. They use those tails as whips. Pretty painful, and there's a mild poison in them, too. At first it was just that Aberforth didn't want his people walking around with whip welts all over them. We found out later that removing the tails also kills a lot of their normal hunting aggression.
Harry. They seemed pretty domestic, even friendly.
Ginny. [aside] Only they hadn't been friendly to Potter. And here, the Quintaped ignored me and gone directly for him. Coincidence? [to Harry] They are. He's thought occasionally about offering them for sale as guard animals. Never gotten around to exploring the potential market.
Harry. Well, you can tell him I'd be glad to serve as a reference. Having looked a Quintaped square in the teeth, I can tell you it's not something the average intruder would like to do twice.
Ginny. [smirks] Get used to it. It's a long way to the edge of the forest.
Harry. I know. Fortunately, you seem to be an excellent shot.
Harry lays down and sleeps.
Rather than sleep, Ginny removes a bottle of Wideye Potion in order to stay awake, too wary to sleep this close to an enemy. As she does so, she frowns at Harry.
Ginny. [aside] He seems so unworried. Strange. If anyone should have any right to be worried, it is he. Stripped of all his vaunted Auror powers by an island full of hinkypunks, trapped in a forest on a region whose name and location he didn't even know, with the Ministry, the Quintapeds, and myself all lining up for the privilege of killing him. He should by rights be wide-eyed with pumping adrenaline by now. Maybe he's just faking it, hoping I'll lower my guard. It's what I'd do. But then . . . maybe there is more to him than meets the eye. More than just a family name, a political position, and a bag of Auror tricks.
Suddenly angry, Ginny reaches for Harry's lightwand.
Yes, of course there is more there. Whatever happened at the end, at that terrible, confused, life-destroying end, it wasn't his Auror tricks that saved him. It was something else, something I'll make sure to find out from him before his own end comes.
Ginny takes her dose of Wideye Potion.
No, the Quintapeds aren't going to get Harry Potter. And neither is the Ministry. When the time comes, I'll kill him myself. It's my right, my privilege, my duty.
Ginny sits down and waits.
Exit all.
